And Now For Something Completely Different
by Muffliato
Summary: Oh my Rowling! Harry Freaking Potter in canon? For this cracky crossover grab your red vines, touch up on your satanic rituals, feel the sting in your lightning scar, and choreograph your way through Hogwarts! – Takes place in HP6 and mid-way through AVPM.
1. Let The Games Begin

**Summary:** Oh my Rowling! Harry Freaking Potter in canon? For this cracky crossover grab your red vines, reread Hogwarts, A History, feel the sting in your lightning scar, and choreograph your way through Going Back To Hogwarts! ~ Takes place HP6/mid-way through AVPM.

**Author's Notes:** A decently written Harry Potter/A Very Potter Musical crossover? Yes, the world is definitely about to end. But until it does why not enjoy this crazy fic? The story is a collaboration project between Mr. Bludger, Miss Helga and Miss A which began one night after far too many chocolate chip cookies and sugar. Miss A thinks their dreams of red vines resulted in the birth of this fic. HUZZAH!

**General Disclaimer:** We know we don't deserve these awful rules made by reality, here on Privet Drive. We're sick of all these muggles (and their lawyers), yet despite all of our struggles, we're still not J.K. Rowling! Or Darren Criss. And red vine-less. Shame, that.

* * *

Harry Potter had a terrible urge to sing. This was less than shocking, considering his trying day.

It had actually begun normally enough, before spiralling downward like a choreographing Death Eater with a time turner. He'd woken up to Ron watching him sleep, played a bit of guitar, and looked up cities in Canada. But then Hermione Freaking Granger had her 'wonderful' idea and decided that the boy-who-lived apparently couldn't survive facing a measly dragon.

Maybe it had something to do with finding him feeding her notes on said fiery beasts to Scabbers (who, for some reason, wouldn't eat them), but whatever it was she'd gotten huffy. Not even the nose trick would work. She kept going on and on about his reckless ways, his hair flipping, and how he didn't even care if he lived or died.

Ron had nodded along, until he realised he was agreeing with Hermione. Neville had raced away in fright mid-way through the lecture. Harry had mostly blocked her out until the last bit:

"–at least practice!" She waved her hands in emphasis. "I got a note from Dra–er–'Little D', and he had a good idea. There's a thing called the Room of Requirement next to the hidden swimming pool and–"

"Wait wait wait," Harry cut her off, "Room of Requirement? That means I can get anything I require! So I'll wish to not have to fight the dragon. Or that I'll fight an imaginary dragon, Puff the Magic Dragon..."

"You can also get the room to 'require' Cho Chang goes out with you." Ron chimed in, his voice muffled by a half-chewed red vine.

"Yes." Harry pointed at his best friend. "That. Exactly. See Hermione? We have nothing to worry about."

The brunette looked less than convinced. "I think it can only work inside the room, Harry."

"Oh, don't be such a know-it-all." Ron dismissed her statement. "I bet we can make a castle full of chocolate. Or, or a castle made of chocolate and Zac Efron posters! Or a room where Hermione doesn't cause butterflies to appear in my stomach!"

She perked up in disbelief. "What?"

"Nothing!" The redhead backed away, taking another bite of his treat in horror. "Er, red vines! Lots and lots of red vines."

Harry nodded, oblivious to the sexual tension. "Yep, that! So let's go solve the dragon problem and then get all that we 'require'."

"WOO!" Ron charged ahead to drag a Hufflepuff off to find the room for them.

* * *

Harry had always been one to live off of his instincts. So if his gut screamed for music, well, he'd race off to the dorm for his guitar. Never mind hidden rooms, Hufflepuffs, dragons, or possibly fatal situations–this took all precedence.

"Harry Potter!"

"Lo best friend's little sister." Harry waved nonchalantly. He adjusted the guitar strap around his shoulder, strolling out of the Fat Lady's portrait with the petite redhead right at his heels.

"_Harry Potter!_" Ginny repeated in excitement, clipping her yellow shoes together like a ginger Dorothy. "Where are you going?"

"To grab a Hufflypuff. No big." He strummed a few notes. "We're heading to the Room of Requirement by the hidden swimming pool. Yeah, I 'require' a way to get rid of the dragon."

"Oh golly gee Harry Potter! A dragon!" She squealed. "Can I help?"

"Eh, sure." He had stopped paying attention and was looking behind her at a returning Ron and Hermione with Cedric Diggory in tow. "Oh, oh my freaking Rowling. No. No! What's _he_ doing here?"

Ron shrugged as Ginny happily skipped away, looking like she'd been felix felicised. "He was the only 'Puff with a spare minute. Something about herding honeybadgers?"

"No!" Harry pointed a finger in Cedric's smiling face. "I know you're trying to sabotage me with the task."

"What?" The older boy tilted his head, his grin never fading. "Ah, no. Ronald here wished for me to _find_ something."

"You can't fool me!"

"Well then," Cedric said huffily–though happily, "_find_ another Badger. What do I care?"

"No, Harry don't!" Hermione cried before turning to the Hufflepuff pleadingly. "You'd be able to use the room as well. Just, please, help us get there."

"Well, there is one thing. Cho and I have been looking for a more private spot." Cedric mused reluctantly. "We keep hearing guitar music and crying when we go to our usual place."

Hermione stomped on an enraged Harry's foot to stop him from interrupting. Ron munched on a Hershey's chocolate bar.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was almost as happy as though she had an imaginary companion in a journal. For, if she helped Harry Potter, they'd be friends. Right? And maybe even more, maybe, if she started acting more like Cho Chang and...

She shook her head to get rid of these thoughts. First things first: help Harry Potter. Find Headmaster Dumbledore to find out where the room was, and then the boy-who-lived would be happy! A shy smile returned to her lips and, with a new bounce in her steps, raced up to the head office and gave a quick barber's knock.

"Professor?" Ginny poked her head in through the open door as the Headmaster looked up. Scarfy hurried the Sorting Hat back into a secluded corner with a final 'Dearie'. "I'm sorry to bug you, but, do you know where I could find the Room of Requirement? I'm trying to help Harry Potter."

"That's very nice of you Mist–pardon me–_Missus_ Weasley." Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "I'm glad to hear you're aiding Hogwarts' sexiest student."

"Did somebody say Draco Malfoy?" Draco stepped in through the still propped open entrance from stage right. Crabbe and Goyle snarled to heighten the atmosphere.

"Malfoy, get your pampered butt out of my office!" Dumbledore huffed. "Headmaster Zefron viewing hours are between 5-7. Besides, we were talking about Harry Potter."

Draco flicked his hair. "Oh, Moonshoes Potter? Rocketship Potter? Starkid Potter, traversing the galaxy for–"

"_Silencio_." Dumbledore idly flicked his wand before sighing with relief. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other uncertainly, but halted any counter-attack by a single glance from the Headmaster. Draco continued pointing at his mouth in a furious silent scream. He wondered if he was bleeding. "Thank wizarding god. Now then, the Room of Requirement? It's by the hidden swimming pool."

"I know that." Ginny fidgeted, stepping away from the fuming Slytherins. "I just don't know where that is either."

"Well, I certainly can't tell you that it's in the forbidden third floor corridor next to the nargle pit, or that you have to pace the hallway three times while thinking of what you require." Dumbledore returned to wisely stroking his beard. Its silvery thread twinkled in the stage lights. "And I absolutely can't tell you that it will reveal your heart's deepest desires."

"What?" She gave a start, her eyes widening like a startled Mrs Norris. Draco shared a startled look with Goyle.

"Oh wait," the Headmaster paused, "that'd be the Mirror of Erised, seventh floor. Never mind, not relevant. Tell me _Missus_ Weasley, do you happen to remember what 'foreshadowing' means?"

"I," Ginny hesitated, "no, not really?"

"Definitely doesn't matter then." Dumbledore exclaimed heartily. "Right then, off you go. Don't let me catch you near Harry Potter's invisibility cloak or the third floor."

"Harry Potter has a cloak?" She gasped. "But, but why would anyone not want to see _Harry Potter_?"

Dumbledore began to answer before pausing in thought. "That is a very good question."

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to steal Harry's cloak. Not 'steal', borrow. Yes. Because he would need it if he was fighting the dragon, right? Thus, it was only a short time later that Ginny found herself on the deserted corridor, looking around in frustration.

"They must have gone already. I have to follow them: Harry Potter needs his cloak! Okay, so happy thoughts. Like Peter Pan. I want to follow them. I want to follow them. I want to follow them."

_'But I don't really.'_ Her traitorous mind spun off on a tangent as her footsteps quickened. _'I want, I want Harry Potter to look at me. To love me. Not, not just be 'Ron's little sister'...I wish for a place where Harry didn't care about Cho...oh, why can't he see what he's doing to me?'_

A minute later she silently opened and shut the door, her thoughts heavy.

* * *

"Finally!" Harry snarled as Cedric at last came to a halt. "You must have led us around the castle a dozen times."

"Well I _found_ a way out of that nargle pit." Cedric said with a smile that was as close to a frown as he could get. "I'd like to see you do better."

"Hey! I distracted those things with music." He protested with narrowing eyes. "Ever heard of a little thing called, the power of wrock?"

Hermione looked confused. "I thought–wasn't it the 'power of love'?"

"Shut up Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, waving his giant candy bar.

Cedric raised an eyebrow at them. "If you've forgotten, weren't you trying to _find_ this room?"

"Right, right." She came up and peered at the wall where there was only an outline of a door. "The note said that we have to think of what we want, pace up and down the hallway three times, and an entrance will appear to take us to what we 'require'."

With a last few glares, the group started down the corridor.

_'Something to stop the dragon...'_ Harry began to think before his eyes caught sight of a blindly grinning Cedric. The dark-haired boy gripped his guitar tighter, anger creating a monster in his chest, _'...no, to be with the girl I love...the girl I love...'_

Meanwhile, Hermione stole a guilty glance at her best friend. _'It doesn't matter if we wish for different things, right? Everyone else wants a way for Harry to survive. I could, what would it hurt? I want...a place where I was welcome by everyone...not derided for my intelligence...surrounded by friends...considered beautiful...'_

_'Food. Food food food. So hungry.'_ Ron groaned, his feet tumbling after the others. _'Why couldn't we do this after second breakfast? And–huh–how does Harry get his hair like that? Adorably ruffly and...focus Ron, focus. All right. What do I wish? Uh, stop the dragon. Yeah. But I'll just sabotage the other champions, so why bother? Instead I,'_ he caught sight of Harry and, tugging at his headband, couldn't help the spiral of his thoughts, _'I could be popular like him. Why not? The Quidditch star, name in The Prophet...still his best mate just, just where people noticed me too...where Hermione noticed me...'_

Cedric's smile lapsed into a frown once he saw that Harry had stopped staring at him and everyone else was concentrating. _'Can't Potter see that I'm helping him? Fine then, forget about the dragon, I'll figure something out without cheating. What I want is for that brat to appreciate me...to be humbler...to stop living off his fame...to care whether or not I and everyone else was there...to stop with the guitar already...to stop trying to steal Cho from me!'_

The others never noticed three figures peering around the corner, watching silently as a door materialised and the group of Gryffindors and sole Hufflepuff ran through, slamming the entrance behind them before the eavesdroppers could follow.

* * *

They were met with a castle. An actual one, as far as they could tell, with sweeping tapestries, rustic large stones, and a wide corridor with snoozing portraits swept with darkness. Cedric gazed around curiously. "This, this doesn't look like a room.." his sentence dwindled off as a flame of roaring fire appeared before them. A twirling song tinkled resoundingly, sinking into their very souls as the cascading sparks sprouted wings and a regally inclined head. None of the students noticed the door disappearing into the space between spaces behind them.

In the next moment, the song had stopped and a phoenix was staring at them oddly. His head tilted like an existential cat.

"Twee."

Hermione gasped at the sight. Her nerd wonder tingled. "Is, is that a–"

"–TURKEY!" Ron cried, giving a whoop and diving at the shocked bird. Said 'turkey' gave an indignant shriek and began flying in the other direction.

"TWEET!"

A puff of flame soared back at them, nearly singeing the smile off of Cedric's perfect face. But the determined redhead still raced after the retreating prize. His befuddled friends were close behind him, and by the end of the night most of the portraits were given a rather rude awakening from a chasing and shouting match that would cover all of Hogwarts.

* * *

**A/N:** Mr. Bludger, Miss Helga and Miss A are crazy fanpeople. Miss Helga and Miss A met at a creative writing society, the three of them became best mates at their uni's Harry Potter Soc, and Mr. Bludger and Miss A had their eyes transfigured. The rest? The rest has been totally awesome. For between Mr. Bludger's hilarity, Miss Helga's amazing linguistic skills, and Miss A's ability to write gibberish, writing a collaboration fanfic was inevitable.

With their arguably undying obsession with HP, AVPM, and singing constantly (or practising Voldy impressions), this crossover was a piece of pasty.

As easy as eating red vines, ya'll.


	2. Goin' Back to Hogwarts

**A/N:** Between the utterly memorisable songs and the totally awesome script, AVPSY rocks Dobby's socks. Though Miss A's still held up on the fact that 'Now you're going to Hogwarts' made her break down in sobs (unlike her indifference to canon's epilogue). She'll track down Starkid if they don't release the reprisals yesterday, which _is_ absolutely possible since they have a time turner that can go back years. Wait, did Darren Criss secretly give JK Rowling the idea for the books? Oh my Wizarding God!

Miss A is also thrilled that Mr. Bludger now has a fanfic account (Bludger1), and hopes that Miss Helga will soon join the party.

**General Disclaimer:** Long ago lived a fellow who caught your eye, hair that curled in a beautiful fro. Now it's gone and replaced with a suit and tie, dancing in a variety show. Oh, where did he go? Does he even care at all? So though we aren't Potter, Rowling, or a Wizarding God, we are here to fill your short attention spans!

* * *

Harry Potter had a headache.

This in itself was hardly an odd occurrence–what with Voldemort having more mood swings than a pregnant Hungarian Horntail, fair weather fangirl stalkers, a suspicious Draco Malfoy, and a newly minted monster in his chest–but today he had even more of a right to moan. And brood. Strangely, this wasn't because of a looming Double Potions or Divination in the afternoon. Though in light of the actual mess, he'd almost prefer the poisoning and fatality predictions (though this was perhaps in the wrong order).

The morning had begun harmlessly enough, as all temptations of fate in his life went. Hermione had pestered Ron and he for leaving their Charms essays for the last minute, her annoyance at a scale of 4: with 1 being, 'Oh shi–she's about to punch someone! DUCK! Where's Malfoy when you need a distracting target!?', and 10 being pre-OWL insanity (accompanied with a liberal amount of hexes, and awakenings in the dead of night for pop quizzes). Thus, Harry wasn't particularly listening to her lecture.

This of course had nothing to do with spotting Ginny's and Dean's clasped hands at breakfast, and the only reason he stuck his elbow in the butter dish was because he was tired. As he hurriedly wiped the stuff off, he looked up as Orla Quirke shily tapped him on the shoulder.

"Harry, Harry Potter?" The young girl squeaked out. Harry gave her a wary grin, setting down the napkin and preparing himself for a barrage of fangirlness. He breathed a sigh of relief when this failed to come. "Headmaster Dumbledore said for all of you to come to his office. Er, now. If that's okay?"

Harry began nodding, trying to make Orla less nervous. But Ron looked confused and spoke up. "Wait, _all_ of us?"

"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron and Ginny Weasley." She recited, ticking them off on her shaking fingers to make sure it was correct. At her name, Ginny glanced up from her conversation with Dean.

"What?" She asked, aiming a spoon of cereal at her mouth.

"The four of us are supposed to go to Dumbledore's office for something." Harry answered, trying to focus on what this could be for rather than gazing at the shocked redhead's still-open mouth … what with her stretched pink lips, with cute little freckles in the corners and … no, Dumbledore. Right. Focus. "What could he want?"

Hermione frowned, tugging at her bushy hair; Orla left the group with a halting wave. "If it was just you it'd likely be for–" she shifted her sentence in noticing the obvious eavesdroppers, "–for this 'Chosen One' nonsense." Her fingers unclasped her hair to close her book.

Ron nodded in agreement before snatching a piece of toast and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "We'll find out soon enough. Gin, you coming?"

"It's _Ginny_, you prat." Said sister huffed before smiling apologetically at Dean. "See you at lunch? I want to hear more about your summer."

"See you." He grinned back, giving her a chaste kiss before she stood up. Ron scowled and Harry tried to ignore the unpleasant sweeping sensation in his stomach. "Try not to get in more trouble before then."

"Oh haha, hilarious." Ginny looked at the trio with a raised eyebrow. "Coming?"

* * *

"The rest of the school is being informed of this by Minerva, but I thought it best to allow the four of you the opportunity to ask questions. The–precariousness–of this situation cannot be understated." Headmaster Dumbledore steepled his fingers beneath his chin, peering at his students with a bright twinkle. If Harry didn't know better he'd have sworn the old man was trying to hold back a laugh. But that couldn't be, right? He was having a hard enough time grasping the idea of 'alternative universe' versions of themselves (and was still fairly certain that the inevitable must have happened and Dumbledore had teamed up with the Weasley twins for a prank, that was sadly missing the toilet seat he was expecting), and couldn't understand how the hell this could be 'funny'. "I have interviewed the students and, while their world seems highly different to ours, since a Harry Potter is in the group it is possible they have knowledge to help us against Lord Voldemort."

A quick glance to his sides reassured Harry that Ron (who had shifted uneasily at the Dark Lord's name) and Ginny were feeling as uncertain as himself. In stark contrast, Hermione was perched at the edge of her seat, eyes wide with wonder and brimming questions. "They're alternative versions of us? Really? How exciting! Where are they? Are they the same age? What's different about their world to ours? Do they have similar relationships? If they came through the Room of Requirement–and how is that possible–can't they return there to go back? What about–"

"Breathe, Hermione." Ron let out a shaky laugh, his hand nervously running through his hair. "Blimey. Professor, tell me you're having us on?"

"I wish I could, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore smiled gently. A ruffled Fawkes took this moment to squawk angrily at a taken aback Ron, who shifted away from the angry fire bird. "As for Miss Granger's questions, four of the new students are together and are searching for Miss Weasley. The wards informed me that she too entered the castle, but has yet to be seen. All of them are, shall we say, younger than you, but the ages in the world appear to be slightly different than our own. The same goes for their relationships. You are all still friends, and Mr. and Miss Weasley are siblings, but your personalities are rather–altered. Imagine that you and your counterpart are two Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans with the same colour. Yet, while your flavour is cherry, their's is, well, something completely different. Perhaps ear wax." His eyes twinkled brightly at a private joke. "I hope all of you can refrain from injuring the 'new' Mr. Potter."

Harry gave a start as all turned to stare to him. "What? Why! Is he dark?"

"No no, my dear boy, nothing like that." The Headmaster chortled while the portraits around them snorted. Harry's anxiousness only grew. "He's just, ah, a tad enamoured with his fame."

"What?" Ron's mouth dropped, exchanging a disbelieving glance with Ginny. "Yeah, that can't be right. Harry _enjoying his fame_? Now I know you're taking the mickey out of us."

"Headmaster?" Hermione pipped in, though she too seemed incredulous of this new information. "You said four students and Ginny. Who's the fifth?"

Dumbledore's expression darkened as his true age shown through. He sighed heavily. "I suppose you must know, especially considering the animosity between him and Mr. Potter."

Harry's brow crinkled. "Who, Malfoy?"

"I meant the alternative Mr. Potter." The Headmaster hesitated on his next words. "Let's just say that the 'new' Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory are not on the best of terms."

One could have heard a knut drop.

Ginny glanced sympathetically at a horror-struck boy-who-lived and ended the pregnant, intensified pause. "Headmaster? What did you mean that the other me is missing?"

Dumbledore too seemed grateful for the tangent. "She came through separately with the others. It could be possible she's hiding, but since none of the portraits can spot her I would hazarda guess that she is invisible. Whether it be by a disillusionment charm, invisibility cloak, or something else I do not know, nor do our other visitors. But be assured, we will do all we can to find her safely."

* * *

Every Hogwarts House fell prey to stereotypes. It had become such an ingrained habit that it had ceased to be insulting–except, of course, when Quidditch or Dark Lords came into the factor. Ravenclaws shrugged unconcerned at their bookwormy social life, Slytherins scowled at accusations of manipulatively complex plans (never denying or admitting a thing), Hufflepuffs groaned at any mention of 'Huff and puff' (though the muggleborns' subsequent sniggering about Bad Wolf threw the others off), and Gryffindors outright embraced their reckless hurtling towards sleeping dragons (for what else were they supposed to tickle?).

Yet every once in awhile–though not measured in weeks, months or years, but in ages–the generalisations were shattered into bits of timey wimey pieces. For while Harry Potter would never consider himself cowardly, running flat-out from Dumbledore's office and his stupefied friends had not been his proudest moment.

Hurtling down the corridors, Harry silently convinced himself that he was more than justified in wanting some breathing room. If he had been a bit rude … well … he'd apologise later. Thus, that left him here. In an unknown hallway, clutching at the stitch in his side, and catching his breath as he surveyed the thankfully empty area. He paused, the only noise being his shaking breath. Harry had wished for brooding time, and this deserted corridor was as good as anywhere. Even better, for he had no idea where he was, only knew he was far from any who would question him, and his company was solely rusting suits of armour and abandoned classrooms. There weren't even any spying portraits in sight. In fact, there was no one at–

"_Harry Potter!_"

Harry jumped, his heart in his throat, and tried to muffle his groan at the appearance of another fangirl–and American by the sound of it. Silently cursing how this day could get any better he paused mid-swear, did a double-take, and hollowly rubbed his eyes. For all he saw behind him was empty air. He fingered his wand, peering cautiously down the corridor. "Hello?"

"_I got your cloak!_" A red cloth was ripped out of nowhere, and a smiling redhead was suddenly beaming inches from his face. Harry leapt back in shock, tripping over his own feet. "I've been searching for you _everywhere_, and here you are! _Did-you-find-the-hidden-swimming-pool?_"

"Er, sure." He blinked at the rapidly spoken words and at the grinning, unmistakable Ginny Weasley. His fast heartbeat began to slow like the wings of a sobering snidget. "Wait, no, what? No, no pool, that's not my cloak, I … what?"

Her beam flickered as she gazed down at the sparkly red cloth. A look of dismay replaced her joy. "Is there another invisibility cloak that your dad passed down to you? You know, the one who's dead? Your dead dad?"

"_What?_" Harry flinched at the callous words. He couldn't imagine even Malfoy stooping that low, not to mention a good friend whose very presence made his chest swarm with butterflies. "Ginny, the hell? Why did you–oh. Damnit." Realisation hit him like the cruciatus, though the aftermath of relief resembled a cheering charm. "Did you walk through the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes." She tilted her head, puzzled. "Harry Potter, where are we? Is this Pigfarts? We aren't supposed to go there for another year. The castle looks different. Bigger and with a higher budget. Did you get a haircut and–OH NO! WHERE'S YOUR GUITAR? _THE MUSIC'S GONE! WHERE'S WINNIPEG!_"

Harry stumbled back at the scream, feeling his headache increase as his short relief at solving the puzzle crashed and burned. A few passing seventh years sent them guarded looks before scouring away. He sorely wished he could join them–damn hero complex. Maybe Hermione had a point after all. "Guitar? No, never mind. I don't want to know. We have to get to Dumbledore, he's been searching for you."

"Okay Harry Potter!" Ginny jumped up and down in excitement. Harry counted to ten while silently talking himself out of stunning her. Because that would not be a heroic thing to do, and the real Ginny would not hesitate to hex him in retaliation. Though maybe it would be worth it to see her eyes moldering in fiery anger, crimson hair lapsing against her smooth skin and pale pink, moist lips as she came closer, closer to him still until ... he forced himself out of these thoughts with a rough shake. This dropped him back to the reality of the hyper happy-go-lucky teen in front of him, so intrinsically different to the petite, powerful redhead who made his heart race.

"Just," Harry rubbed his throbbing head, pulling the cheerfully bouncing girl down the hallway. The sparkling cloak trailed behind them, "just call me 'Harry'. But no more screaming? Please?"

"OH GOLLY GEE! Oppsie, sorry." Her hands clapped over her mouth as Harry winced at the shriek right in his ears. She repeated the words in a stage whisper, since he had obviously not heard her. "_Oh golly gee!_"

"Bugger." He groaned, dimly relieved that at least he didn't have to worry about being tongue-tied around two different girls. The 'monster' had definitely disappeared. The screams had scared it off. "How could this get any wor–", he paused as an older, grinning boy strutted around the corner, "–Christ."

"GINNY! GINNY! GIN–oh, checkmate. GINNY! Ah, there you are. I've _found_ you," Cedric Diggory's smile faded slightly as he caught sight of the shocked boy next to her, "and Harry Potter. Wonderful."

"... oh, bloody freaking hell." The boy-who-lived cursed, wishing more than anything that this was merely a terribly scaring prank. Ginny clapped her hands to her ears with a squeak of horror.

"Bad words!" She cried as Cedric looked on disapprovingly (though still with that Cheshire grin). "I'm just a little kid!"

Harry groaned, as this summed up his feelings more so than any other answer could. Yes, this had better be one of the twins' distasteful pranks. Stupid gits. This might even beat the time they had pretended Fred had died so George could throw a white blanket over himself and insist that everyone was mixing them up.

* * *

Gryffindors were recklessly courageous to a fault–unsurprising, since they were in the house of the free and the home of the brave. Though this was a wonderful trait to have in a life-or-death situation (such as a Care of Magical Creatures class), it meant that they were more likely to approach danger without abandon.

A stroll and whispered conversation between Ron, Hermione and Ginny was thus, almost inevitably, screaming for the hand of fate to step in. Fate, being a helpful companion, willing obliged.

"–can't just skip your class!" Hermione was lecturing Ginny sternly as they traipsed down the corridor. The younger girl rolled her eyes.

"Please. Like I'm not going to search for myself." She paused at the odd phrase before shaking her head. 'Clearing the wrackspurts', as a certain Ravenclaw would say. "You lot have free periods and I only have History of Magic. Besides, now we have to find Harry, and who knows where he's brooding? Not that I can blame him: as though this wasn't insane enough, it had to be _Cedric Diggory_ who got transported here? Poor Harry–Merlin, poor Cho."

"Maybe we should give him some time–" Ron cautiously started before both girls snorted. There was, however, no time for them to vehemently disagree before all of them paused in front of the courtyard in surprise. Small drifts of music filtered towards them out of a massive crowd of cheering students.

The trio exchanged a glance. "Maybe it's innocent?" Hermione half-heartedly said before sighing. "Forget it, we don't have that sort of luck. We might as well see what's happened now."

The other two nodded in agreement and the next few minutes saw them pushing and tugging their way through the horde of students. As they got closer to the centre the music became louder the guitar strums and singing was clear enough to hear the individual notes:

"...I'll do what I can if what you say I am is true!

I can't be bothered by my awful past,

I've found at last something I can do,

so it's time I knew exactly who I am..."

"Does that voice sound familiar? I mean, I know it's American, but something about the tone?" Ron questioned. Ginny paused before a horrified look crossed her face as she lost no time tearing through the last stray students to the centre. What met her sight stopped her cold, her theory being proven correct. Ron and Hermione bustled up behind her before likewise halting in shock.

"...I'm Harry Freakin' Potter!" The boy in the middle of the fawning crowd strummed away on his guitar, leaning casually against the bench.

"Not brooding then, I guess." Ron's voice quaked between hilarity and incredulity. He didn't even mind when Hermione slapped his arm.

"That's obviously not our Harry." She took a deep breath before stepping forward, similarly torn between disapprovement and amusement. The dark-haired boy paused when he glanced up and saw them. His face lit up and the music stopped.

"Ron!" Not-Harry grinned, swinging the guitar back over his shoulder. There came a dismayed moan from the fangirls and Neville. "_Finally_. Did you find the red vines? Where'd your headband go?"

"Er..." the redhead looked confused, but his not-really best friend merely continued on.

"You'll never believe this." Green eyes lit up with unabashed delight. "Apparently I'm 'the Chosen One' here or something. Who'd have guessed? Maybe Neo didn't want the job."

Hermione let a giggle escape at hearing her friend like this. Still, she got ahold of herself after a moment. "Harry Potter, I assume?"

"The one and only." Harry grinned imperviously. "Scar, guitar, sexy good looks: who else could I be? So, who should I make the autograph out to?"

Ron's, Hermione's and Ginny's jaws dropped. The surrounding students burst out in excited scrambling for quills and parchment. Two students rolled up their sleeves, as though expecting him to give them autographed Dark Marks.

"You're, you're joking." Hermione said slowly, coming closer to her not-best friend in order to be heard over the insanity. The boy merely stared at her curiously from his perch on the bench.

"Course I'm not. So, who are you?" Harry paused as a look of absolute hurt crossed the brunette's face. He frowned, crinkled up his brow, and inspected her closely. "Wait a second–Hermione?" He sprung up in amazement. "You look gorgeous!"

"I–thank you?" Hermione asked uncertainly as the dark-haired boy continued grinning.

"And you're English! Maybe there _is_ something to that whole 'British accents make you irresistible'thing. Must be why Malfoy's always faking it. It's like I'm in 'Love, Actually'." Harry began laughing, wiping away tears of mirth.

"Oh my Rowling, this is totally awesome. Crazy-old-and-bearded Dumbledore explained it all after he rescued his turkey. Er, phoenix. Henri. Fox. Foxes?" Harry scrunched up his nose. "Something or other. This world is so strange. No music, no Headmaster Zefron, Ron can't find any red vines, and there are so many more students–and not one of them is a confused gender like Malfoy! At least the fans are the same." He threw a Lockhart-worthy smile at said adoring students, ignoring the parchments and screams flung at him from due practice. "I guess you're alternate Hermione then?"

"Yeah." Ron's eyes glazed over, not having understood half the words but deciding he was better off for this. "Same with me and Ginny."

Harry's expression brightened in realisation. "That's why you're headband-less. And foodless. You're the other Ginny?"

"Yes." She crossed her arms. "Since the others aren't going to ask, I will. Why were you singing?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "Always have. Disney, Glee, Holy Musical Batman … it's all the same."

The Weasleys stared at Harry strangely while Hermione considered the pop culture terms. "I suppose you grew up with the Dursleys then? You seem to know a lot about the muggle world."

"Everyone knows about it." The dark-haired boy strummed nonchalantly with his right hand, using his left to sloppily autograph a sixth year girl's chest. He never noticed Ginny's and Hermione's scowls, or Ron's choke. "That'd be like not knowing that Clark Kent actually has totally awesome eyesight, or that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner are Science Bros. I mean, come on, really? But yeah, the good ol' cupboard underneath the stairs."

"I–" Hermione began to reply before the final words fully processed. She grasped around for anything even resembling an answer, "–_what?_"

"You know, my bedroom." He shrugged, uncaring. "With my aunt's sneers and uncle's glares. Stupid Dursleys. It's fine though, everyone here knows I'm cool."

"That's … definitely something to ask 'our' Harry about." Ron was equally shocked by the casual admission, even while the crowd loudly assured their Boy Saviour that he was most positively totally awesome.

* * *

"For the last bloody time." Harry gritted out, trying and failing to keep calm as the unperturbed redhead rocked on her yellow flats. "No, I'm not going to sing."

"Pllleeeaaassse?" Ginny–and other fangirl students who had materialised out of thin air–pleaded, fingers nettling her hair in worry. Cedric looked on with a raised eyebrow and surprised expression. "Just ooonnneee?"

"No!" He groaned in reply, deciding in that instant that she could surely find Dumbledore's office on her own. Especially with 'inferi Cedric' in tow and, god, he wanted to get away from that unnerving smile alone! It was like being stalked by the Cheshire cat. Though the guilt at the other boy's death tugged at him, the never-ending grin was rapidly disintegrating even that. "Ginny, Ced-Cedric, other–people? What are you even doing here?–no songs. I don't sing, I don't play guitar, and I have to get to class before Hermione hunts me down and turns me into a homework planner. Dumbledore's office is up this corridor behind the gargoyle statues. Password's red vines."

Cedric sighed, his smile remaining. "Of course." ('Well, I don't _find _that surprising at all.')

"But, but, Harry Potter," Ginny whimpered, tugging the boy back as he tried to get away, "your guitar! The music! THE ONE POWER HE KNOWS NOT!"

Harry spun around in disbelief. "Wha–what did you say?"

"Music?" Ginny blinked innocently.

"No, you," he groaned in frustration, "damn it, none of this makes sense!"

"MUSIC!"

"I'm going to hex my bloody counterpart when I see him." Harry cursed before properly racing away, pushing aside the excited fangirls in his wake.

Cedric huffed as he pulled the distraught Ginny in the other direction. "Not if I _find_ him first."

* * *

Cho Chang was having a horrible day.

The cold war between she and Marietta Edgecombe was still going strong, for the summer had not warmed their frosty 'friendship' like she had hoped. The first week of classes had thus been less than thrilling, especially since many of her true friends were still ignoring her. Couldn't they see she had nothing to do with the DA debacle? She was as furious with Marietta as they, but they had no right to take it out on her!

Then the second week opened up to the glorious bad omen of a sinking feeling in her stomach as Professor McGonagall stood up at breakfast. She rose in a manner similar to Dumbledore, with one quick flourish like a wand withdrawal, never showing age or tiredness. The ensuing announcement confirmed her fears and, with a quick check at a Gryffindor Table lacking the 'Golden Trio', knew that she should kiss her semester good bye.

_A second Harry Potter?_ Cho groaned, putting her head in her arms as the words washed over her. Bugger it all, now two people would be mad at her. Not two, actually, it sometimes seemed as though the entire school was after her–

"Cho?" She looked up at the quiet, kind voice. The sight that met her was shocking, for every Ravenclaw (and quite a few Hufflepuffs with craning necks) was staring at her sympathetically. "Do, do you want to talk? If you do, I'm here."

Marietta finished as the rest of the House nodded solemnly in agreement. Cho gaped at their sudden personality change. It probably should have been frightening to see such a sudden and rapid transformation come over her entire House, but she had seen far stranger things. She solidly blamed the Weasley Twins for that. "What? What are you talking about?"

"About," Susan Bones hesitated before plunging ahead, "about Cedric. The 'new one', like McGonagall said. I'm so sorry–I can't imagine what you must be feeling."

What Cho was feeling was sheer confusion. Had her classmates gone mad? The Professor had explained that there were alternative (which was ridiculous in itself) versions of the Gryffindor Trio and Ginny Weasley running about. What was––and the words she'd been blocking out truly sunk in:

_'I am sorry but thrilled to inform you that, in addition to these four students,' McGonagall's voice had hitched, 'there is also another version of, of Ced–Cedric Diggory . I warn you, this is not the boy you remember. But his appearance alone will startle some of you if you aren't prepared–'_

"Cho?" Susan's concerned tone jerked Cho from her recollection. "Please talk to us?"

And though Cho had always felt she was as brave as any Lion, she would feel she was well within her rights to feel so overwhelmed that the world went dark. The last thing she remembered was the Great Hall erupting around her.

* * *

Ron and Hermione arrived at Charms ten minutes before the bell, pulling a smirking guitarist along with them. The former two were ruffled, annoyed, and close to slamming the boy's instrument into something. Or someone, who might or might not have hair that curled in a beautiful fro.

The seated Harry wasn't much better, for his head was in his arms as he fruitlessly tried to get the ringing out of his ears. When he finally straightened up he was met with another nightmarish sight. "Oh god, not again."

In direct contrast to this horror, the other Harry's grin widened as he spotted his counterpart, instantly making a beeline towards him. Ignoring the shocked students and avoiding Ron's and Hermione's attempts to hold him back, he came to a sliding standstill an inch from the desk. "Hi to you too!"

The rattled boy-who-lived inclined his head, staring up at his counterpart in resignment. "Please tell me you're Malfoy under polyjuice?"

"What?" His eyes confusedly crossed. "No, I'm Harry Potter. HP, ya know."

"Damnit." Harry sighed, once more cupping his head with his hands. "Thought I'd at least try."

"No no no." The grinning boy sat on the desk, pulling his guitar over his shoulder to its correct place. "I'm Harry Potter, you're Harry Potter!"

"We covered that." Harry's muffled voice came out from behind messy black hair.

"So," the other Harry continued to grin, unabashed, at the Chosen One, "we're totally awesome times two. Or squared–I'll ask Hermione later. What matters is that you're me and I'm you!" He strummed absently, leaning towards his oblivious alter ego. "Wanna compare adventures or make music first?"

"Neither."

"Come on!" Harry grinned fanatically. "You're Harry Freaking Potter. Every son and daughter knows your name! Have a bit of fun, sing a song–"

"Yeah, no." The muffled voice stubbornly replied with only a hint of flush. "I don't sing."

"You don't..." Harry trailed off. The same minor guitar chord continued as he stared at his counterpart in horror, "...no way."

"Way." Was the dead-pan reply.

"Nuh-uh!" The guitarist furiously shook his head in denial. "No alternative me is going to be musicless! Even if you do sound like Daniel Radcliffe. It's like, like you're living someone else's life!"

Harry snorted, finally surfacing from his arms. "Yeah, that's pretty much what it is. Look, whatever you want to do, fine. Just leave me alone. I don't play guitar, I don't sing, and I don't like groupies. And if you could get _your_ Ginny off my back that would be–"

"...what?" Harry gaped at him, jumping off of the desk. "You don't like groupies?"

"Of course not. Are you kidding me?"

"NO!" He pointed at him furiously. "_No_, this has gone too far. Next you're going to say something ridiculous like, like, _like you can't dance!_"

"I can't." Harry shrugged, exchanging a disbelieving glance with Ron. The other boy-who-lived was less than pleased by this revelation. "Pretty pointless, what with us only having a ball once during the school years."

"_That's it!_" He growled, grabbing his protesting counterpart under the arm and lugging them both from the room, narrowly avoiding sending a puzzled, entering Professor Flitwick to the floor. "I'm fixing this. WE'RE SEEING HAGRID!"

The door shut with a _bang_ behind them, though the shouting Harries' argument remained audible. Meanwhile, the rest of the class gaped as Ron and Hermione sunk into their seats. They were slightly guilty about leaving their friend to a fate worse than death, but were relieved that they'd been spared.

But they unequivocally learned that fate should never be challenged when, five minutes into class, the door burst open with a slam of screams. The lecturing Flitwick gasped and fell from his seat, but everyone was too busy staring at the entering headbanded Ron and insanely bushy haired Hermione to notice his predicament.

"–A NIGHT TROLL! THAT'S WHAT–"

"–don't start with that again! _I've had it! I'm tired of this!_ WHEN YOU CARE MORE ABOUT FINDING RED VINES THAN YOUR BEST FRIEND–"

"_Harry_ sent me off to find them! AND WHY ARE WE SCREAMING?"

"THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT!"

The remaining two of the Golden Trio wasted no time in ducking under their desks, sharing a scared look, and hoping beyond anything that their counterparts hadn't noticed them in their fury.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviewers are even more totally awesome than red vines :D


End file.
